by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe
Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.
Jesus said, “In those days, after that suffering,
the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light,
and the stars will be falling from heaven,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.
Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.
“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”
—Mark 13:24-37
Happy New Year everyone! No, my calendar isn’t broken. Today is the start of the church’s year. It’s our New Year’s Day and the first Sunday in the season of Advent. Starting today we begin to tell our story. It’s not a story – yet – about a virgin birth, angels and shepherds. It’s about the power of God in massive ways and in tiny ones. It’s a story that starts in the cosmos and finishes in the manger.
Where ever you grew up there’s some natural event that is so powerful and unpredictable that the very idea creates anxiety. Here, of course, it’s earthquakes. When I was growing up in Oklahoma the thing I was most fearful of was tornados.
Summer was tornado season. On some level you were always waiting for the next one, a more powerful one. Today there are doppler weather storm trackers that can tell us where a tornado is, which way it’s moving, how fast it’s going. The conversation is about “there’s a tornado watch” where you do just that. Or a tornado “warning” – and you know it’s getting closer to you. And then you might be told that it’s coming your way and you should take cover. What luxury to have this information – truly God’s gift of science to those in tornado country.
When I was little, we only had what we could see and feel and the lived experience of our elders. The air would get very still and weirdly quiet. The sky would be a cloudless haze. You stopped what you were doing and paid attention. Even children stopped playing with friends and rode their bike home as fast as they could. You waited with your family to see if the wind came up so fierce that windows rattled and everything that wasn’t tied down blew over fences and down the street. The watching could go on for hours. As a child, I lost interest and fell asleep. But my parents were always on watch.
Finally we might hear the one “official” warning we would get – the tornado sirens would blow all over town. That meant that someone had actually spotted a twister. This was earsplitting noise and yet it could barely be heard above wind.
The house I lived in didn’t have a storm cellar. But the neighbors across the street did. And we were welcome to go there whenever the sirens blew. This happened a handful of times. But the one most vivid in my memory happened in the middle of the night.
The sirens woke me up and right away my father scooped me up in his arms, ran down the stairs, into the driving rain across the street to the neighbor’s cellar. Soaking wet, both of us, with my mother and brother huddled in this bunker-like space waiting for who knows how long. I asked my father if our house was going to blow away. “I don’t know, babe. But we’ll be fine.”
It was the closest event that comes to mind when I read about sun and moon darkening, stars falling and the shaking of the powers in the heavens. The immense power of it cannot be described, only the awe. I never recall it without also recalling my father’s assurance in the midst of the storm that everything was going to be okay. I wonder if he believed it. Or if what he said was his prayer.
Today we see Jesus not as a teacher or a healer but as a true prophet offering both vision and compassion. Our story today of stars falling, the sun darkened and a moon that will not shine connects us with ancient people. Their lived experience, their storms were as captives of one empire or another over hundreds of years, struggling to survive, weary and longing for rescue by the one God will send. Now is the time, they cry, for God to come down, tear open the heavens, break it all apart and make everything new.
For the listeners of Mark’s gospel this image of the Messiah coming in and setting right everything that has gone wrong has been their cry for hundreds of years. That’s a long time for people to continue to believe that the Messiah is coming. It’s a long time to continue to believe that if they trust God and wait saturated in trust, that God’s promises will be fulfilled. But that is exactly what is asked. To continue to believe. And, based on that belief, to prepare heart and mind for that very event.
So I have a question for all of us -- what are we waiting for? Are we waiting for Christmas or are we waiting for Christ? Obviously we know when Christmas will arrive. It’s on our calendars measured by the number of shopping days that are left. And when it arrives we know what it will be like even in this unusual year.
But waiting for Christ to come is different. It asks something more of us. Jesus, over and over again in the gospels, asks us to stay awake and prepare our hearts and minds – that’s how important it is! He asks us to be constantly preparing and watching because we don’t know when he will appear. He asks us to wait actively.
It’s a little like a fisherman who sits at home all winter waiting for spring when he can finally grab his tackle and head to the stream. He can wait passively until spring arrives. Or he can wait actively – getting his equipment in good shape and tying flies. Once he’s fishing he’s still waiting. But it’s completely different. It’s full of expectation. He waits and watches with excited anticipation, without regrets, because he knows he’s done everything he needs to do to bring him to this moment when the longed for fish come along. This is the kind of active waiting Jesus asks of us.
Whatever storm is raging right now, our assurance is that Jesus is coming in power and glory - a power to ignite the sun, brighten the moon and throw stars into the heavens to gleam more brightly than ever. We’ll be prepared if we are waiting to receive him with open hearts and minds. And that’s the Good News today.
Let us pray:
Meet us in the darkness O Lord, and be our light. Help us to know and believe that in you we have nothing to fear. Even if our eyes cannot see, even when we cannot know what is to come, we can know that you are with us. Strengthen us to prepare. Be with us in our waiting. Move over the face of our darkness, O God. Trouble us, comfort us, stir us up, and calm us, but do not cease to breathe your presence into our souls. Amen.
